


eleven days of everyone's favorite shape

by succulentnectar



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Other, Reader is AFAB - Freeform, Slow Burn, Smut, just gonna see what sticks, smut in chapter 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 17:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16163309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/succulentnectar/pseuds/succulentnectar
Summary: An attempt at a Michael Myers challenge for all of October that was whittled down to 11 days due to me being a full-time student. The first chapter is a one-shot that can be read on its own, while the rest is an accidental slow-burn that ends up as smut in the end, with a short epilogue to top things off."What would happen if: 1) killers couldn't harm survivors outside of a trial and 2) the worlds between the killers and survivors was always shifting and changing around them, allowing them to meet outside of the chase?The answer is that you end up accidentally befriending Michael Myers, of course."(Thank you for all of your kudos and comments ^^)





	1. leading a shape to honey

You knew something was wrong when you found mud prints tracking around your linoleum floor in the morning, but no signs of entry or struggle. You searched every other corner to see if anything was gone, only to forget about it for a few days.

Later, when the cramps kicked in, you scrambled for your stash of chocolate, discovering the truth. 

*~*~*~*

This figure liked sweets, but you wanted to test this for yourself. The tracks were evenly spaced out, circling from every other drawer to your stash, and then out the back door. You tried to suppress the lump in your throat when you found the beginning of the tracks...at the front of your bedroom door.

An offering was in order. 

Chocolate was the one thing you could rely on. The cashier at the gas station down the street didn’t bat an eye at your armfuls of glossy bars and bags of glucose, nor the way your wringed your hands. The crinkling of the wrappers made you feel like it was Halloween already, but with the fear of the day seeping into your thoughts with each hurried step.

That night, you placed the chocolate on your counter, along with a small sample of your hoard.

Just as you were slipping into dreams, slow, careful steps rang in your ears and faded just as suddenly as they had come.

*~*~*~*

You were alive.

All of the chocolate was gone, with the rest of the small piles mussed up, as though mixed around by a gust of wind. The tracks led under your back door, beginning at your own bedroom again, doing nothing to alleviate your nerves.

You wished you counted how much it had taken from the original hoard. Based on your receipt and the windswept counter, it favored chocolate, honey, and wafers.

You had an idea.

An idea that led you to the lockbox under your bed, sealing away what your parents taught you to use in the forest many moons ago.

*~*~*~*

Night fell, and the air was humid, a blanket of mist spreading out into the deep dark. You were in shorts and a T-shirt that fell around your shoulders, billowing in the wind.

Your gun had the safety on, and you had a plate of honey and sliced bread sitting next to you. It felt heavy sitting against the small of your back, collecting the sweat beading down your spine. 

Another pile of chocolate sat at your side, for good measure. You’d be lying if you said you gave the rest of your hoard to your friends.

An hour after the sun went down rolled into a few minutes past the witching hour. And then, a prickling on the back of your neck.

One, two, stop. Your heart was pounding. It knew that you were packing heat, it knew the whole game from the start. It’s a trap.

Your head whips back with a gasp. Pale and plastic, dark holes, and navy work clothes that drew close to square, broad shoulders. It was human, somehow.

You swallow hard. Your gaze flickers to the plate and back at him. 

Slow steps, dark eyes boring into your own as it kept a foot away from you. He sits on the concrete and grabs a piece of bread, squeezes far too much honey onto it. Thick, pale hands tip the mask up to reveal chapped lips and blonde fuzz on his chin, maybe a few strands of hair past his neck. A well-defined jaw that makes you stare for far too long, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he wolfs down the offering desperately. 

You slide the chocolate closer to him, waiting for him to notice. He catches a glimpse and steals a bar like it was his all along, bites into the squares and hums in the back of his throat.

You don’t realize you’re enraptured until he turns towards you, putting down the bar. 

You fidget and look away. “Take it, take—it’s fine.” Moments pass as time freezes. Your trigger finger twitches.

The bars disappear into a navy pocket, and the mask is back on. 

He stands, and looms over you. You swear you can see some sort of glint peering straight through you, like it knows. His head tilts to the side, and he walks off into the night.

You sleep soundly for the first time in days, lingering visions of blonde clouding your dreams.


	2. memento

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael tries to deliver something.

The end draws closer like a steaming freight truck barreling down a one way street. Your heart pounds double time to keep you alive, filling your ears as you fiddle with the last generator. You’re stuck in a corner of a shack, but you can hear Laurie’s curses ring out clear as day. 

“Stay back, you murderous son of a bitch! I mean it!” Her words are spliced with agitated grunts and the skidding of the Shape’s blade against a crowbar she found. The killer had surpassed all the traps you had set out, precious seconds ticking away until you could all escape from this new horror.

Your hands slow when the skidding stops, leaving the metallic tang of the generator to bounce around your mind. You look up to see if she had fallen, but you hear a smack instead.

“Keep it to yourself, you prick. You never really grew up, did you?”

She speaks like a teacher chastising the playground bully, not a teen with too much gumption telling off a murderer. Something about her tone makes you want to look over, but she dashes off instead, with heavy footsteps following steadily behind.

The generator goes up and the weight of this cold, dead world leaves your shoulders for a moment. You stand up and break into a jog, only to spot a photo in the leaves. A memento?

There’s a small boy and girl in the photo, faded from the light, soft on the edges where it gave into stress. Blonde, fluffy hair, with the boy’s eyes dark but alive. The girl’s eyes are light blue and fixed with an innocence you wish you had. 

You tuck it into your back pocket and make for salvation.

*~*~*~*

You’re the last one there, and your legs are screaming for you to leave.

The photo burns in your pocket, along with the back of your head. You turn to face the dark forest and your eyes blow open wide when you spy the Shape looming over you. 

His hands are around your throat in an instant, thick knuckles digging into your skin as you cough and sputter. One hand flails wildly in the space between you two, and the other makes for the photo. In a flash of luck, you wave it in front of the pallid mask, and you fall into a crumpled heap of person.

The photo isn’t pinched between your fingers anymore, and you glance up to see it disappear into another navy pocket. The Shape’s head tilts to examine you, vulnerable and panting like you just ran a mile.

He yanks you up by the back of your shirt, exposing your midriff and more and you don’t have time to cry out before you stumble your way towards standing. One last beat of peering into the mask, and he shoves you towards the door. You leap into the waiting doors and let the darkness overcome you.

A lonely figure looks at his solemn offering.

*~*~*~*

“So, you were close to him, right?”

“Too close for comfort, yeah. Why?”

“No no, like, did you know him?”

“…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this isn't as shippy as it could be; I think this one was more for weighing out how I do action kinda sorta. lets get some smooching going for tomorrow, how about that?


	3. boop!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok so there's no smooching here but you know what!??! I have an exam and I want the Good Stuff to be good and I wanna try and do this still so accept this humble offering

Most of the survivors didn’t like venturing out between trials, figuring that nothing in the surrounding woods could help them in the coming nightmarish scenes. You, however, felt like you needed some time to recharge and regain some semblance of humanity after, **y’know, literally being sacrificed to some eldritch horror**.

 

So, that was fun. It was fine, really.

 

Today, you were carefully stepping down some dark, rocky hills in search of some freshwater. Not the puny trickles you purified through a strainer, an actual river you could soak in. The grime and waste of the days lingered after each trial, even if all other wounds were somehow healed by the Entity. You wanted to wash your face, dammit.

 

You also had a makeshift waterskin to fill, patched together from thicker leaves and flexible bark. It was far from perfect, but you had a spring in your step, knowing you could enter your next challenge refreshed and ready.

 

Your peace, however, slowly crumbed away as you felt a familiar prickling feeling crawl up your neck like a spiny spider, a near non-existent tone playing in your head.

 

You turned to see the Shape just ten feet away from you, still as a statue. Even in the faint moonlight, the void of the mask’s eyes was bottomless compared to the thickets of trees behind him. Not a sclera or iris to be seen.

 

You didn’t run or cry out though. You smiled, **because you knew.**

 

The rules didn’t make much sense, but the book stated that the worlds of the killers and survivors were tied together, blending and sliding together like liquid puzzle pieces. The Entity liked its playthings on an equal footing outside of its cruel little games.

 

‘Neither survivor nor killer can hurt, maim, kill or touch one another with murderous or wrongful intent outside of a trial. However, pain can be cancelled out by other forces.’

 

You decided to ignore what other forces could be at play, for your own mental health.

 

So, he couldn’t hurt you. He could watch, he could note how you hated being followed. But you were free, for now.

 

“Kinda sucks, huh? All dressed up and no one to kill.”

 

He simply tilts his head. You face him cheekily.

 

“Do you even know what I’m saying? Or are you playing dumb.”

 

You step forward towards him as he stands there. His feet shift until you’re an inch away, staring up at him.

 

He lurches forward with a deep gleam of his knife, aimed at your heart, and promptly stumbles past your shoulder. You have to suppress a giggle.

 

It was like a sudden chill rushed through your hoodie. You turned to see him shakily get up again, fist tightening on the blade handle. Another swipe at your throat, chills running up your spine. You only saw a thin flash of light from the blade, and an unkempt mess of a killer.

 

He let his knife lodge itself in the dirt. He cracked his knuckles, twisted and turned his pale head, thick neck veins pulsing, until you heard a sickening **crunch** that made you queasy all over. His shoulders hunched as he formed a vice-like grip with his hands, rushing towards your neck, only to clench his fists and tumble to the ground in his angered pace.

 

Laughter bubbled up in your throat and you doubled over with mirth, a single joyous, echoing sound that resounded through the forest. He was dead quiet as you mocked him, and you didn’t stop when he approached you again.

 

 **Boop**.

 

“Huh?”

 

Did he just.

 

**Boop boop.**

 

“H-hey!”

 

 **Boop boop boop boopboopboopboopbo**.

 

Once, twice, thrice, what the hell was happening why is a killer poking your nose oh my god? Oh my god.

 

You were being poked…by a murderer. And you felt it, on your nose, your cheek, your forehead, your arm, more and more. It didn’t hurt, but certain pokes felt like small cold spots dotting your skin.

 

“D-dammit, I’m just trying to get some water! Stop following meeeee!”

 

You tried to nudge him off, but he was still solid. Great! He couldn’t kill you but he could annoy you to high hell!

 

After some gentle pushing and cajoling, he leaped forward with a killer dash, pining you onto a tree by the collar of your hoodie. The pressure tugging at your skin wasn’t painful enough to phase through, but his heat, his heavy breathing on top of you sent your mind spinning.

 

You looked into the void again. Dark and darker, with a glint of light blue. A flash of truth before he jostled you again. Caught in a tight fist, his thumb swiped under his neck as his eyes bored into your own, and your heart nearly stopped beating.

 

You dropped like a pack of laundry onto the dirt, crumpled and forgotten.

 

He’s gone when you look up into the crown of the forest, and you know that you fucked up **bad**.


	4. michael please stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> resurrection ferns r cute and if you tear them off I will hurt u ok? ok. see this as a continuation of the last chapter lol.

 

To sum up the last handful of trials, you were tired of being the most popular dish on the Entity’s menu.

 

Avoiding the Shape was like running from a tornado when he was stalking you and your friends. His grip was unbreakable, his kills were ruthless, and you swore you could feel your chest stinging from the constant penetration after you came back to camp.

 

You just wanted to sleep forever, just like what you wanted after an endless week of exams. Blergh.

 

“Do you need some sort of poultice? I can whip something quick from some herbs I found the other day!” You didn’t know where Claudette got her energy, but you were sure that it kept your spirit flickering an iota brighter.

 

“I-I’ll be fine, but thanks. I think I’m gonna count those ferns you showed me the other day.” With that, you trudged off the beaten path and left your friends crowding around the fire.

 

*~*~*~*

 

The thing about the resurrection ferns, crumpled, green speckled things that dotted massive rotting tree trunks, was that they felt nice to touch, and mindless to count. In the heat of calculating the risk of each step and breath, qualitative calculations that went nowhere except to hell, a solid, palpable thing to proportion and ratio was the mind-numbing experience you needed to unwind.

 

You even rationed a little water from scant creeks to observe the brown fronds thicken and expand with supple energy. The leaflets rolled out and exposed their coppery spores to the damp forest air, and with each relaxed millimeter of chlorophyll, you could feel the burden on your heart lessen.

 

**Swish.**

 

…and then they were gone.

 

“Really, dude?! Are you fucking kidding me!”

 

More void. More staring. More standing. More ruining your free time with his pettiness.

 

You scowled up at him. You hadn’t even finished calculating the ratio of dried ferns to supple ferns! Not cool, not cool at all!

 

With a small grumble, you bounced on the balls of your heels and latched onto his legs, locking them in place with your arms and legs, like a human barnacle anchored out of sheer malice.

 

“Hahaha, try and ruin my fun now, fucker!” He might’ve been able to gut you like a fish, but his legs were only good for a modest jog.

 

You felt him flex and shuffle under your arms, paw at your arms like an angry dog, only to phase through again. He huffed and stood still.

 

Your world tilted to the right, and he felt with a thunderous **thump**. Was he made of wood or something?!

 

“Gah, stop, stop!!” You released him and jumped up with a running start, making for the tree line and back to your friends, hoping they didn’t smell blood and grime.

 

The Shape rose at the hip and traced your steps, your warmth lingering along his cold, strange form.


	5. river buds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my kink is holding hands, yes I know, very controversial, no I am not taking feedback.
> 
> if this ends up being an accidental slow burn I will fling myself into the sun I stg
> 
> also this is a claudette Stan account now. goodnite lads.

After spending several trials with Claudette having your back, you had grown to trust her as an ally.

 

You did not, however, trust her to keep her balance with that bucket bursting with wild blueberries.

 

Besides smelling like the produce section, you decided that you didn’t want to sleep in a failed V8 concoction and trudged through the mud to find a flowing river. The landscape was always shifting, sorting through a million and more combinations, none of which made any sense.

 

One time you counted a rock with the same ratio of dried to supple ferns. How fucked up was that? Clearly the Entity was torturing you to the brink of madness.

 

But then, a gurgling, sprinkling sound. A clear, lovely melody.

 

Running water, and lots of it. Salvation!

 

You broke out into a careful jog in the dark and crouched by the edge of the beautiful babbling brook. In the faint shine of the moonlight, the water ran clear and smooth, slipping over rocks and logs like they were nothing.

 

You cupped your hands and took a long drink, only slightly upset that you forgot your waterskin. To hell with that, you were thirsty, and you needed a break from worrying about your every step and br—

 

That chime, ringing through your head. Cloying, persistent, sinking your stomach, but different from when you were in a trial. You rolled your eyes and hung your head low.

 

“What am I, your Obsession or something?”

 

He was closer this time, only taking a few hefty steps before crouching down next to you. You idly wondered if he knew how to teleport or if you could only sense him when he wanted you to.

 

“If you wanna go for round two, wait until I get this caked stuff off, or else I won’t let go next time.”

 

And with that, you sat in silence with a murderer as you washed your knees. You didn’t glance at him until you heard a slight shuffle of movement.

 

“Are you still all bloody or does the Entity clean—”

 

He was gone.

 

No, he wasn’t gone. He was different. He wasn’t pale, he had eyes. He was…handsome.

 

God dammit.

 

Your lips were parted in shock, eyes widening as you took in this new stranger.

 

You could see where he was looking: straight ahead, like you didn’t exist. His hair was dirty blonde in the dark, soft and fluffy, and unkempt stubble ghosted his face. A strong jaw and long nose, long eyelashes and dark eyes.

 

When you tried to catch a glimpse closer, his neck pivoted with a quick flick and his gaze bored into your eyes, hell, your soul. His face was just as immovable as before but being able to track his eyes made a world of distance.

 

“Huh. You’re…normal?”

 

He tilted his head to the side, a maddening habit that made you feel like a wild animal being dissected. Such a simple thing changed by how his eyes roamed over your body.

 

Another digit booped your nose.

 

“H-hey, are you gonna do this again? Because I’m not gonna get outmatched in this.”

 

To your surprise, he nodded slightly. You pursed your lips and went for gold.

 

You booped his cheek. It was softer than you expected.

 

He raised an eyebrow and poked your shoulder, finger flicking down your arm.

 

A few more pokes on his chest, catching his black shirt, his thick bicep, all the way to his wrist. He poked your chest too but avoided the hem of your shirt. He ventured to poke the top of your thigh, and you actually laughed when his dead eyes widened at the slight thickness.

 

Your exploration, inch by inch, led you to his wrist, dusted with light hair. It was shocking how warm he was, how novel the heat of another was in such a cruel, dead world.

 

With a flick of the wrist, his palm met your own in a shocking embrace.

 

Your pulse leaped out of your chest and you curled your fingers around his hand like they were meant to fit together.

 

You didn’t dare look up. Long, pained moments passed. You finally wanted to decode what was happening.

 

His brow was furrowed, his eyes darting between your hands joined together, your own arms, and his navy covered ones. His grip flexed with his silent heartbeat, small and minute pulses that ran deadly close against your own.

 

He ripped his hand out of that accursed lock and ran past the thickest trees in the forest, head bowed down with his pale mask waving wildly in his hand.

 

You blinked and took a deep breath, trying to comprehend what happened.

 

Your hand was still warm.

 

You cupped your cheek with that same hand, noting that it was already flushed bright red with heat.

 

(You suppressed the urge to dunk your head in the river and scream bloody murder until you drowned in a far more peaceful state than this.)


	6. devil's nape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh You Know ;)

Cycling through trials, finding the nearest river or lake became a habit after that night. Some nights the Shape joined you, some nights he was just as motionless and dead silent. Other nights, when the moon was at its faintest, he took his mask off and washed the grime from the day’s hunt off. 

He didn’t bother holding your hand again, but you let his rough hands trace your shoulders, pinch and grasp your forearms inch by inch. When you tried to mirror the exploration too far, you could feel his muscles tighten up, recoiled like you had wounded him.

One time, you cupped your hands to take a drink. Holding the mouthful up, you tilted your hands up. He did it with the same careful pace he stalked you with during the trials.

You tried to not think about it too often.

It was like watching a plant: still in the moment, yet within a plurality of weeks, showing growth akin to a vine wrapping around a branch. His hair grew longer, past his chin, and his stubble became unrulier. You noticed the hunch in his shoulder fall the moment he dropped down to join you at the river’s edge. 

You asked mundane questions about the stars and the way the Entity worked, and he might answer with the stiff shrug of his shoulders, a subtle nod, shake or tilt. 

Often, he would just look up and touch your shoulder again, squeezing gently. Sometimes, his touch was an answer enough, though you didn’t know why.

 

*~*~*~*

“Where’ve you been going all these nights? You know we can pitch your tent farther from ours if you need some special time alone. I don’t wanna have to treat bug bites in weird spots.”

“N-no, it’s not that!! I just need time to myself when I know I don’t have to worry about getting hooked.”

“You always look so excited to go though…” Claudette leans in closer. “Is it one of the other survivors? C’mon, I love secret crushes!”

“Uhm…let’s just say I really like my alone time.”

*~*~*~*

“Alright, this is getting outta hand.”

He looked up this time, tilting his head much sharper at your sudden outburst.  
“You need a damn haircut. You look like Shaggy!” You crouched down and pinched a lock of his unruly hair, letting the backside of his hand phase through you coolly. 

If you couldn’t see his eyes, if anyone couldn’t see his eyes, it could mean disaster in the next trial. A distraction didn’t cut it if you couldn’t trace his killer instincts. 

(This was strictly a tactical decision. Totally had nothing to do with wanting to read him, or how he looked way better before. All business, all strategy. Affection? Never met her.)

His bangs were hanging in his eyes, but he didn’t seem to notice. With a lightbulb popping up in your mind, you eyed the glint of moonlight lodged in the dirt.

“Gimme your knife so I can cut your hair. You’ll thank me later.”

He shook his head, grabbing the knife and tightening his fist until his knuckles were bleached out.

You sighed. “It’s not like I can hurt you, dude.” At that moment, another idea popped in your head.

Oh, this’ll be fun.

“Hey…” Your voice was soft as your fingers rested on his stiff arm. His grip softened as you held his wrist with delicate fingers. You stepped behind him and sat up on your knees to get in position. He softened his grip gradually, let you snake his arm behind his head, and get to work.

Despite the precarious position, you knew this was the most unwound you had ever seen him. His head hung down to let you work, perked up straight when you evened out his bangs, tilted two and fro as you shortened his sides. You weren’t an expert, but you’d seen enough beauty tutorials to give him a decent look.

Your fingers brushed the nape of his neck, brushing off the stray hairs and he let out a deep, shuddering breath. Your eyebrows shot up and you held back a gasp. From then on, each touch on his thick shoulders would bring some small reaction out of him. A slight shiver on his neck, a soft moan when you touched his forehead. Lock by lock, he relaxed in your soft touches.

The blade ghosted the bottom of his neck and goosebumps rose across his frame. You heard him suppress a breathy groan in the back of his throat, and you desperately wished he wouldn’t hold back.

With your work nearly done, you decided that you wanted more.

You tipped the knife down, away from his new look. You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against the crown of his head. He didn’t have time to turn around. You pressed a soft, slow kiss to the fresh, exposed skin of the back of his neck. 

You didn’t have the reflexes to enjoy more than a second of his warmth.

He stumbled forward with a strangled cry, nearly falling into the rushing river in front of you. His fingers let the knife loose in their haste, and the blade cut the top of your thigh, revealing a thin crimson mark. You cried out at the pain and buckled onto your hands. 

His breathing was deep and weary, and when you looked up, he was huffing like a wild animal caught in a steel trap. His eyes darted to the mark and back at you.

“I’m so sorry, I just…I thought…” A single finger pressed against your shaking lips. 

He crawled closer from the safe distance he erected way from you. His hand reached out to brush the scarlet cut, oozing blood at an alarming rate.

He was shaking like he was chilled to the bone, or rather, like he just realized he was after all this time.

The blood clung to his fingers, wiped over his lips as his eyes finally met yours. They were darker than ever.

Another hand grasped the back of your head smoothly, gripping you tight as he kissed you desperately. His chapped lips pressed flat against yours until you gasped, letting him kiss you deeper, your chest springing to life with new urgency at the flood of new sensation, heated and strong and ruthless.

You melted into the kiss as he clutched you closer, groaning into your mouth as you kissed his upper lip with the outpouring of emotion that you’d bottled up so many trials ago. Sides, death, permanence…none of it mattered in that one, dark embrace. He bit and licked like he was starving for this, playing with your tongue and shuddering with sensation overload every moment. He swallowed your moans greedily when you tasted your blood mixing with his tongue.

He finally pulled back from the kiss to look at you: flushed, shivering with need, licking your lips as he lingered in your mind. A faint blush painted his cheeks and his heavy breathing made your legs feel weak. 

He stood up unsteadily, looking out to the faint treeline away from your camp. You looked up and grimly cast your eyes down. You’d be running for your life soon.

A rough hand tilted your chin up to meet dark eyes. He caressed your cheek and ghosted your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. 

With a final shuddering breath, he walked off into the night, mask in hand.

You licked your lips in silence.

*~*~*~*

You took Claudette up on that offer to move your tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I DID IT HOLY FUCK.
> 
> y'alls comments give me life, im not joking. pls don't stop! 
> 
> also! plz feel free to suggest ideas!!! im super open and easily manipulated LMAO.


	7. drawing in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curiosity turns to need turns to want. Gettin' kinda spicy in here, lads.

You didn’t meet at the river anymore after that night.

Darkness would fall on the camp and the bonfire would go out with a hushed hiss of flame. Everyone retreated to their own makeshift tents, some opting to join each other in the cold, long night ahead. It wasn’t odd to see the pairs shift and mix every other night.

Little did they know.

You’d lie in your sleeping bag, curled up in the darkness without the benefit of a light. You could venture to pull out your flashlight, but you didn’t need it to know who would unzip your tent to slowly crawl in.

He’d hang over you with his hands on either side of your face, mask discarded with the nighttime providing plenty cover. His thick legs framed your body and the surrounding heat, the looming weight of him over you reminded you of how much power was locked into his sturdy frame. He leans down, chest to chest, and his exploration continues.

He always starts with your face, reverent in the blindness between you two. Tremors dot how he cups your flushed cheeks, brushes your eyelids with his thumbs, gentle yet insistent. He slides his hands to the back of your neck, fingers connecting to hold your throat. Your pulse pounds against his palms, you can feel the sweat beading there. It’s such a sensitive, intimate gesture, the risk of him doing this inside of a trial erased by how he lovingly nuzzles your hairline. 

You explore him with equal fascination: tousling his hair, running your fingers over his stubble again and again, outlining his features as they soften under your caresses. You adore how you can feel the edge of his lips perk up minutely when you trace him. As though knowing he was spotted, he captures your lips in a kiss, and the game changes again.

You delight in the feverish embrace while he quickly opens your shirt. His hands are so hot against your skin, and you arch higher when his fingers fan out to knead the softness of your torso. You whine into his mouth and you feel a soft rumble leave his throat. He moves around your breasts until he finally indulges you by cupping one gingerly. You make your need known by finally reaching out to slip a hand under his black undershirt. His movements halt when you repeat the same motions on his bare chest. He practically chokes and starts again, this time slower, more cautious.

The hand pulling his neck down to kiss you fumbles to grab the hand on your chest, guiding it to your other breast and pushing down desperately. You break away from the breathless kiss to whisper in his ear.

“L-like this, see? It’s okay.” You don’t notice if he nods or not. You do notice the fingers pinching your nipple out of the blue.

You hiss and he steals your breath again, this time with a nip on your bottom lip that makes you shudder under him. His calloused hands are exploring every inch of you now: the small of your back, the middle of your shoulders, the v of your hips, coming dangerously close to the wet heat growing between your legs. You try to match his feverish pace, but you’re no match for his strength and desperate need. He’s a flushed, restless mess, undone by the gentlest touch, and your chest tightens with each shaky moan he releases into your mouth.

Soon, the exhaustion of the days behind you weights upon your embrace. Heavy petting turns to softness again, and Michael slips down to lie on his side, your breathing being the only noise inside the small tent. His arm loops around your shoulders and pulls you close. You bury your face in the v of skin exposed above his shirt. You don’t hear anything besides his heavy, even breathing. Without a word spoken, you fall asleep in his arms. 

You try to ignore the hollow feeling in your chest the next morning, arms draped around an empty shape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, facing writings block, trying to find a new way to write 'his eyes are dark': you fool. you goddamn imbecile.
> 
> me, shameful: 'his eyes were fucking black holes that sucked me up like a goddamn vacuum".
> 
> can you tell that I write this stuff late at night, with no betas???
> 
> ur comments give me life as always; ive never had so much feedback on a single piece (which makes sense given my rate and the capital Q Quality).
> 
> Things are gonna get a bit darker, a bit spicer next chapter, I promise. Y'all will like it ;)
> 
> Thank you all again!!


	8. calling out for someone, something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eyyyyy sorry for the late chapter! I had my exam tonight and im so effin tired. I should be posting this next chapter soon :P
> 
> again, all your kudos and comments keep me happy and lemme know how im doing. I think once this storyline is done, ill edit it after the challenge is over and edit it into its work that looks a bit better. thanks and have a nice night!

Each new trial brought a special sting to it now.

 

A killer would haul you off into its arms, drag you towards your demise, kicking and screaming for someone. You’d see him stand off in the distance, as still and cold as the trees framing him. You’d get the wind knocked out of you when the hook pierces your back and let the darkness consume you, let your thoughts drift into nothing while you longed for release.

 

Those days of spotting him along the treeline bled into lonely nights in the dark.

 

*~*~*~*

 

If you knew his name, if he even **had** a name, you wish you could call it out. Not even if you were in danger. You wanted to hear what it would sound like in your own voice, to be able to call his attention away from whatever morbid thoughts clouded his head. He didn’t even know **your** name, and yet you’ve shared so much heat together for so many nights. It didn’t feel right. He wasn’t a stranger to your hands, to the way he made your heart pound.

 

You carefully approached Laurie one night, watching the firelight reflect off her sleek blonde hair. She looked so peaceful up close, but you’d seen her run for her life enough times to know she was anything but.

 

“Hey, Laurie?”

 

She looks up, already questioning you with her eyes.

 

“Can you tell me more about the Shape?”

 

She’s silent for a moment. And then, a dry laugh.

 

“What do you wanna know? I can tell ya you can’t kill him. He doesn’t have a conscience, or any good left in him. Just another bad seed, like the rest of them.”

 

You furrowed your brow. Her callous tone made you irrationally angry; you knew that some of the killers were just people put under the worst circumstances, some crueler than others.

 

“There’s gotta be something else though, right? Didn’t he attack your neighborhood?”

 

She whipped her head to scowl at you.

 

“Yes. What’s your deal, kid? What do you want?”

 

You swallowed, taken aback.

 

“I want to know his name. I want to know who he is.”

Her lips settled into a dull frown, pensive. She looked into the fire again and leaned on her knees. She was quiet, and you listened to the fire crackle and spit sparks up.

 

“Myers.”

 

Your head perks up. “Huh?”

 

“His name is Michael Myers. He killed my big sister when he was six and way too many people when he came back on Halloween.”

 

“What did he come back from?”

 

“That hellhole, the sanitarium. They spit out something worse than what they put in. Fifteen years later, and he tried to kill me too.”

 

Bitter tears leaked from Laurie’s eyes, softer and squeezed shut, barely held together.

 

“I’m…I’m so sorry, Laurie.”

 

“It’s fine. It’s been a long while but…knowing he’s still here, getting his fill…it makes me so fucking sick.”

 

You nodded solemnly and stood up.

 

“I know.”

 

*~*~*~*

 

_since he met you, there was another drive, another feeling that lingered in his mind. not the cool, hard feeling that grew tight and strong will each kill. an empty, warm feeling that filled when he was with you._

_that feeling only grew colder, more ephemeral as you fell away from him, left to the slaughter by another._

_he avoided you in the hunt, only able to watch as you died over and over again. He couldn’t take when you had so generously given. he didn’t understand what had changed and why._

_it didn’t stop him from taking from your friends though. he saw the anguish on their faces as the life left their bodies, but it didn’t sting as much as the look on your face when you realized you were too late._

_those nights became so rare now. nights of learning, exploring without relying on that one-track mentality to exist. the steel like barrel of his chest grew stronger, but he felt his innards crumbling away, ashes of something new forgotten to the wind._

_he needed to do something._


	9. finders keepers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is short and im tired and I wanna sleeeeeeeeeeb theres gonna be smut tomorrow lmao
> 
> ty for ur comments and kudos they fund my confidence as a writerrrrrrrrrrr
> 
>  
> 
> ily!! <3

It was the end of the trial. The doors to salvation were open, and you were free to jump into another lonely night on your own, with scant firelight to keep you warm, and meager small talk to keep you barely sane.

You were running out of ferns to count.

Before you turned to go, a familiar prickling ran up your back. Your eyes went wide and you spun around wildly.

“MICHAEL!! Michael, please, where are you!” Your voice was hoarse from running for your life, shouting commands all night.

“Michael!” You called out again. You whipped around to see him standing there, stiff as a board as you sprinted towards him. 

You caught his midsection in a tight hug and soaked in his warmth, let him slowly put his arms around you and hold you for the first time in weeks. You let out a big sigh and looked up.

“I, uhm…I learned your name. Sorry if that’s kinda weird. Do you wanna know mine?”

A small nod.

You motioned for him to lean down and whispered it so that he could hear through the mask.

Another slow nod, and a hand reaching to cup your face. You held his hand against you and looked at him again.

“I’m sorry if you ever feel…conflicted about this sort of thing. I know we all come back after a while but sometimes…I just wish we could all get out of here. I’m tired all the time, I always feel empty and weird, my ferns are all dying off, and Claudette won’t shut up about how hot the Huntress is. I mean, she’s right, but…I just wish I didn’t have to run away anymore.”

You closed your eyes and let his warmth calm you, keep the tears brimming your eyes at bay for another moment. He let out a deep breath and slowly removed his hand. You tried to step back again, but he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you against his wide frame.  
You were taken aback, eyes blown wide and face flushed, and he further surprised you by catching the back of your knees and carrying you bridal style. Your hands flew to his neck in a heartbeat, and you looked at him for answer. He took a few steps before settling on a tree, leaning you against it and planting a thick arm above you.

He was so close now. You looked into his unfathomable eyes beyond the mask, searching for something. He tipped the edge of his mask up, revealing his bitten lips and blonde stubble. He leaned forward, and his warm breath ghosted your neck.

“Michael…” You whispered. He let out a low, shaky breath and sunk his teeth into your neck.

You cried out, high and pained, grasping Michael’s shoulders with a deadly grip. He only dug in more, biting that same spot until it was numb from the pain. You felt your pulse throb under his teeth. The sudden, red-hot contact make you tremble all over, and somehow, you could feel your wetness grow stronger between your legs. 

He licked and kissed the mark in apology, waiting until the tension left your body and carried you again. Your eyes were shut as he meandered to the door, opening it for you as much as he could.

He leaned in again and nuzzled your temple. You were close to passing out from exhaustion when you heard a new sound.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and leaned in, lips tracing the soft shell of your ear.

“Mine.”


	10. what's mine is yours and what's yours is mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE IM BACK
> 
> I'm so sorry for the long wait! I'm a full-time college student with clubs and stuff, so I'm sorry for not being able to do the whole month.
> 
> I did, however, deliver on that smut :>
> 
> thank you for all of your support, kudos, and comments! I really hope you like the end!

When you leave for your tent that night, your hands tremble slightly as you zip the tent shut, letting the quiet darkness consume you.

Each moment of the last trial repeats countless times in your mind: the relief you felt when you called for him, the warmth of his chest against yours, the satisfaction of sharing your name, and the mark…

You were still unfathomably dizzy. You lied awake in torment over it; it felt like a beacon, more psychological than physical. You could swear it still stung like the first time and touched the tender skin gently.

You didn’t have to wait much longer for him to come for you.

He zipped open the tent and motioned for you to leave it, his movements rushed and urgent. You crawled out and was swept up in an instant, carried bridal-style once again with newfound strength. You let yourself relax in his arms and closed your eyes as he briskly walked through the forest, until the circle of tents became a distant dot beyond the trees.

How long had it been since you hadn’t given the killer a single thought?

You didn’t even have to hold his neck to support yourself. You busied yourself with tracing the cords of his neck, caressing the soft hairs there and feeling the goosebumps rise. It was a small, intimate peek that you appreciated endlessly.

Soon, you came upon a hazy, rundown neighborhood, filled with dilapidated houses and broken-down cars. Aged Halloween decorations littered the porches of so many old, dusty homes, and it felt like something out of a Goosebumps book.

“Is this your home?” You whispered. He nodded and strode towards one house on the corner of a lonely street, with the windows boarded up and the door hanging off the bolt at a dangerous angle.

He passed the threshold into…an oddly well-kept home. It wasn’t perfect, but the dining table and family room looked livable, and the kitchen didn’t smell old and crusty. It certainly looked like it needed a good vacuuming though; you had a small coughing fit when Michael walked up the carpeted stairs and he leaned in cautiously. You managed a weak “I’m fine” and he continued up, though a step slower now.

He brought you to a simple master bedroom, with a king-sized bed and tall bedposts that outlined it in the faint moonlight. He gently set you down on the bed, crossing over to sit next to you and shove off his boots. And then…silence.

This was his home. This was the start of it all. From before he was made, and from after he escaped. This place was…everything, really.  
“Michael…” You said his name to yourself. He turned to you and your hands rested on his shoulders.

“Can I take off your mask?”

He nodded almost feverishly, barely restrained. You tipped it up and let it fall to the ground, exposing the dark, ardent look in his eyes. His chest heaved up and down with the weight of his need.

You leaned in a centimeter and he took a mile.

His hands gripped your back desperately, digging his nails into your top and kissed you with equal fervor. His embrace was brutal and possessive, squeezing you between his arms like he was making you take his attention. You returned each aching kiss with a soft moan, nipping at his lip and kissing up his jawline. His name leaked from your lips like a cry for help, and he shuddered violently at each mention.

He threw you back onto the bed, still holding you tight against his chest, and ground down on your front with a bit back moan. You felt each desperate thrust against your crotch feed deeper into your growing need, that heat building in your core when his hungry kisses lingered on that mark on your neck. 

You fell back onto the bed as he loomed over you again, this time the focus of his wandering hands on the front of his coveralls. You saw a long, thick bulge press against the navy fabric, and he let out a long, low groan when he rubbed his hand against his straining length. His normally neutral face was twisted, eyes screwed shut, as though in a pain far worse than a well-placed trap.

You swallowed thickly and started unbuttoning his clothes. 

When he felt your delicate hands go to work, you knocked him out of his haze, and his thick fingers soon found their way to the hem of your shirt, the edge of your shorts falling away as well. He fumbled with your underwear for a hot minute, and you finally peeled off his black undershirt to expose his scarred chest. 

You gasped at the full sight of him, open and uncovered before you. He seemed even bigger without clothes, towering over you…including his equipment.

Just…wow. Wow.

He had the same wonderous look in his eye as he stared you down, more alive than ever.

He leaned over you again, resting on an elbow and he tilted your chin to look straight at him. With one finger, he slowly entered your dripping entrance and explored you. You tried to level your breathing, but it hitched when he rubbed against your nub just so. You nodded quickly and held his forearm. He watched every breath with fascination.

“L-like that, yeah.” He nodded and continued looking, curling his digit until he brushed against something deep and spongy, and you cried out suddenly, high and surprised. 

He kept manipulating that spot inside of you, matching his pace with another finger stroking your clit, and you threw your head back against the covers. Another finger soon entered your slick folds, and the only sounds resounding through the house were the labored breathing of you and him, along with the loving sound of his skillful fingering. 

Your eyes were screwed shut when he finally took out his fingers, leaving you empty and aching for more. You whined and opened your eyes to see him lick the juices on his fingers, eyes widening when he discovers your irresistible taste. You could see the gears turning in his head at that moment, and he took his cock in hand and gave it a few pumps while his eyes traced your flushed, eager body.

After what felt like ages, he lined his hips up with yours and looked at you again, the pleading look in his eyes saying more than words ever could. You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, waiting.

Once the warm, bulbous tip of his cock sunk inside of you, he filled you up, inch by loving inch, with him. Weeks of longing, of conflict boiling between the two of you came to a point when his hips were pressed flush against you. He was so still, listening to the softest gasps you took while you struggled to adjust to all of him.

A thick, calloused hand cups your bright red cheek. With a soft nod, he pulled back his hips and started fucking you in earnest.

To his credit, despite the fountain of lust and burning need bubbling up in his chest, manifesting in a full body tremor whenever he sunk in and out of your glistening, wet pussy, he kept a smooth, thorough pace that didn’t let up for a moment, but let you adjust to the feel of his cock pushing around your walls. Your back arched with each nudge of your clit, and you couldn’t form any words other than half-bitten curses and soft groans of his name. Such a simple trigger that made him suddenly groan deep in his throat and snap his hips against yours, shoving you full of him. The resulting high-pitched whine only spurred him further.

“M-more…more please, Michael, f-fuck…”

He was all too happy to comply.

He dug his fingers into your hips, fanning them to cup your ass. He picked you up and set you on his lap, laying trembling chest to chest until he turned around and sat up on the headboard. He could see every emotion race across your face as you sunk down onto his cock, the new angle and gravity setting new places inside of you alight with pleasure and blistering heat. While you rode him with all the strength you could muster, he was still pounding you from below, burying his face in your collarbone and sucking new marks across your slick skin, filling you up quick and hard.

Your hands fly to his neck, holding him there, closer and closer, as though you could be torn apart at any moment. Before the thought could take root, you gasp.

“F-fuck, Michael, I’m gonna—I’m!! Aaaah~!”

You came so hard on his cock, bouncing in his lap, curling your body to hold him tight. Your pussy tightened around him, and your core radiated with blinding heat, leaking your release onto both of your thighs. Your muscles clenched and released all at once, and the deep sensation of your climax spread comfortably through your shivering form.

Michael, meanwhile, felt like he was possessed. His climax hit him with the force of a cyclone, making him seize up and come deep inside of you with one final thrust. He let out a deep, animalistic grunt, tapering into steady, shuddering pants. His chest heaved up and down as the pleasure washed over him, with bone deep feeling of warmth, fullness settling inside of him.

You were both locked together until your limbs gradually loosened, shifting down below the covers and scooting close again, heads resting on the well-worn pillows. You were so exhausted that you didn’t bother to look up, just tuck yourself under his chin and listen to his steady heartbeat slow to a soft murmur. 

Rough hands came up to rub your back, ease your pulse into a gentle rate. So small, yet essential, like he could whisper to your insides and put you back together again.

Exhaustion gave way to sleep soon enough, but there was one thought left in your mind as you let the darkness take you…

…you wanted to wake up to a sunlit morning with him, one day.


	11. an epilogue of sorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just something to put a nice lil bow on things :>

_*~*~*~*~*_

_He marked you so that no other killer would take you. Any trouble would result in a new enemy, a distraction in the hunt._

_No hunting meant no food for the entity. You came up with a plan. Unorthodox but possible._

_He watched as you brought Claudette out from the shadows, let you take off his mask. She was shocked, but not as shocked as when the Huntress, a kindred spirit of Michael, stepped out without hers._

_Claudette, the gentle plant girl, loved how soft Anna’s hand was in her own, her fluffy black hair._

_They hatched a plan that night._

_*~*~*~*_

_One by one, the killers and the survivors pair up. It was awkward, especially when you first introduce him to the rest of the survivors. They all gasp when he takes off his mask._

_The killers are just as surprised when they bring in some human to their meager group._

_The entity was far from pleased, tried to goad him into hunting, tried to goad anyone._

_After countless cycles with empty hooks, broken generators…your strike worked._

_It was pointless to feed off of unseasoned meat, killers and survivors lacking in marinade, that delectable fear and hope it so desperately needed._

_It spit you out on the edge of a dark forest. Claudette shouted when she spotted the protonema of a bryophyte that only grew in Montreal._

_You didn’t know what you wanted anymore. Neither did he._

_You both stood as the others clamored around you, holding hands as the sun came up for the first time in many, many months._

_At first light, you walked together, hand in hand, into the bright, beautiful unknown._

 


End file.
